


Under Cloak And Dagger

by whovianmuse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianmuse/pseuds/whovianmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The three of them sit in silence, drinking in the tension and guilt that radiates throughout the room. Amy and the Doctor chance looks at one another in rare moments of desperation, but never do their eyes lock in synchronicity. They follow this cyclical pattern, pretending like nothing had ever happened between them, and thinking constantly about the next time they’ll have another stolen moment together.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Written for a prompt on Eleventy_Kink (LiveJournal)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Cloak And Dagger

            Amy had broken several promises to Rory ever since they had first started traveling with the Doctor. She deliberately left him out of plans when she promised she’d let him in on the Doctor’s secrets. She was constantly slipping off with the Doctor at random intervals, leaving Rory behind without explanation or apology. Once, she had even let him get captured by a hoard of angry, elephantine, half-centaur prison guards, when Amy had promised him he’d be safe if he waited for her under the arch of the sacred burial temple. He’d escaped with several burn marks charring his skin, and a feathered headdress.

            Amy and the Doctor had merely laughed.

            Rory had been patient and accepting of his fiancée, perhaps far more than he should’ve been, and it hadn’t escaped the Doctor’s notice. It was not as though the Doctor was completely devoid of a conscience, it was that he simply chose to ignore it. He lived for the excitement, for the fear of being caught, and even for the inevitable guilt and self-loathing that often came as accompaniment, because Amy made his ticket to hell well worth it.

            After a while, Amy and the Doctor discovered that it was far too easy to slip away from Rory unnoticed. Each new planet brought with it a clever new ruse, a new fabrication, a new landscape with endless hidden crevices and crowded streets to infiltrate and explore. It was perfectly understandable, of course, that Amy continually wandered off every time the trio visited somewhere new, and that it was up to the Doctor alone to go after her.

            Rory would wait patiently in the TARDIS, just as the Doctor had instructed, assuming that the only reason the pair of them returned several hours later, breathless and giggling, was because Amy was happy to be alive, and because the Doctor was happy to have found her. Every adventure became a thrilling game for the both of them, another chance for them to get caught. _This_ was what they lived for. Time after time, planet after planet, and Rory was never the wiser.

            This particular afternoon finds the trio, not running for their lives, not imprisoned in a foreign containment chamber for accidentally insulting religious tradition, and not intimately involved in a peculiar knighting, but rather in the TARDIS on what the Doctor calls “a domestic day in.” The Doctor has taken to instructing Rory on DIY household tasks, using the TARDIS as a practice target, in order to prepare him for married life. Rory has been keen to remind the Doctor that normal houses do not, in fact, contain fragile vortex manipulators in the form of confusing buttons and levers, and that he would probably never need to know how to prevent spontaneous combustion and jettison of random corridors in his future home, but the Doctor pays him no mind.

            The sound of metal clattering to the floor rattles the console as Amy pops in, scaring the hell out of both of them, and laughing hysterically when she finds her boys clad in bright orange jumpsuits, tangled in a mess of colorful wires, with massive goggles strapped to their heads. The Doctor rolls his eyes and smiles, taking Rory’s momentary distraction to admire the sinful excuse for a skirt that Amy’s got wrapped around her thighs.

            Amy responds with a wicked smile that she quickly converts into a playfully sympathetic expression as she hugs her fiancé and pretends to admire his handy-work. While Rory prattles on, sounding confused rather than confident in his pronunciation of spacey-wacey technical terms, Amy and the Doctor exchange covert glances, mouthing impish phrases to one another when Rory isn’t looking. Amy bites her lip and cocks her head to the nearest corridor, and the Doctor interrupts Rory’s proud revelations.

            “Right, good. You seem to have that all taken care of. I’m just going to work round the other side, but Rory,” he says, striding up the steps to the upper level of the console at a slow, steady pace, “keep to that side, will you, and don’t take your eyes off the wiring? Otherwise, the lot of us will not live long enough for me to scold you for your mistake.”

            Amy giggles softly and smiles at the Doctor, who still looks ridiculous in his get-up. Once they’re out of sight, the Doctor presses her against the controls of the console and kisses her roughly, hardly caring if one simple slip of a lever kills them all, because the only thought that occupies his mind is Amelia Pond, and his hunger to touch her again.

            “Amy, are you still here?” Rory asks from the underside of the TARDIS. The Doctor glowers, glaring through the thick layer of glass toward Amy’s fiancé. Amy smirks, presses a finger to her lips and says, “I’m just popping off to the swimming pool. Wouldn’t want to disturb my boys while they’re working so diligently.” The last word slips to a higher octave as the Doctor grazes his hands along her thighs, inching under her skirt. She gives him a warning glance and, the moment Rory has responded with his usual “have fun, I’ll miss you,”she untangles herself from the Doctor and strolls over to a corridor in the far corner, swaying her hips as she moves.

            The Doctor chases her, pins her against the wall and tosses his goggles and jumpsuit to the floor, smiling devilishly. Amy laughs and pushes at his chest, ushering him away. The Doctor complies with obvious difficulty, sulking as he walks away from her and moves toward the console. Amy knows this trick only too well, and she isn’t going to fall for it. In one swift motion, she pulls him back by the fabric of his jacket and wraps her fingers around the collar of his button-down shirt, pulling him into her and making him believe she’s going to kiss him. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she hovers a few inches from his lips, teasing him terribly and smiling like a minx as he drinks in the inviting scent of her breath.

            He urges her closer, and the smallest hint of a smile graces her lips before she pushes him away again, rougher this time. He buckles into a chair close by, completely dumbfounded, but still smiling after her as she walks away, beckoning him to follow her to the swimming pool, just like the last time. But the Doctor is cleverer, and before she can make it across the threshold, he snakes his arms around her waist and pulls her down with him so that she collapses in a fit of giggles onto his lap.

            “Is everything all right up there? I could swear I heard a crash and then Amy laughing,” Rory’s muffled voice calls from the underside again. The Doctor smiles and places a finger to his lips, and Amy mimics him, stifling her laughter and wrapping her arms around his tweed-clad shoulders while the Doctor responds with calculated composure.

            “Amy’s gone off to the swimming pool, Rory, like she’s told you. It’s just me up here.”

            “Right, sorry. Must be hearing things again.”

            Amy smiles and curls her fingers around his neck, placing soft little kisses along the patch of skin where his ear meets his collarbone.

            “Aren’t we leaving?” Amy whispers softly into his ear. “I’d fancy the library this time.”

            The Doctor glides his hands along her waist, mouthing a delicate _no_ against her lips.

            “Doctor, we’ll definitely get caught if we stay here,” she says, but the Doctor’s smile only widens. Amy furrows her eyebrows in protest, but she’s smiling brilliantly, lacing her fingers into the curves of his bright red bowtie. The Doctor spins her around on his lap so that she’s facing forward, sending shivers down her spine as he softly kisses her neck, curling his fingers around her hips and cuddling her. She can feel him pulsing beneath her, and so she teases, grinding ever so slowly against him. The Doctor tilts back his head, breathing heavily as Amy arches her back against him, leaning into his chest and weaving her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the strands as he pushes up against her.

            In a matter of seconds, the Doctor’s wrestled out of his trousers, leaving them in a crumpled mess on the floor. His next conquest is the immediate removal of Amy’s knickers. His hands move along her thighs, searching for a sign of cotton and lace. The Doctor gasps softly when he realizes that there’s nothing but Amy’s soft, pale skin underneath, and Amy can’t help but smile as he becomes impossibly harder beneath her.

            She moves against him in a concentrated rhythm, pushing back as he pushes forward, reveling in the way his fingers lace into the stands of her hair, the way his whole body shakes and vibrates against her as he struggles to keep composure. The Doctor has learned to recognize when Amy is close, and so the moment she allows him to, he moves faster, wrapping his hands around her hips and pulling her harder against him, delighting in the way she dips back and rests her head on his shoulder, stifling a collection of moans against the base of his throat. The Doctor gives her a few moments to recompose before tickling her senseless, and Amy struggles to regain control of her limbs and suppress her laughter all at once.

            “Doctor?”

            With a groan of frustration, the Doctor reluctantly removes his mouth from Amy’s, cloaking her in his arms, and hugs her to his chest like he’s afraid she’ll leave him.

            “Yes, Rory, what is it?” he calls into the distance, attempting to keep the irritation out of his voice.

            “Just, erm…the thing you said about blue wires and red wires. Well, there’s a bit of purple here and a multi-colored one that’s rather fragmented. Which ones do I cut and which ones do I reconnect?”

            The Doctor slumps against Amy’s back and sighs in vexation as he gestures for her to let him up, but Amy isn’t having any of it. She pushes him backward, thrusting him roughly into the chair and keeping him right where he is. He chuckles softly, nestling his chin on her shoulder, and tickling her neck as he breathes into her hair. Amy lifts her hips and positions herself directly against him, inching ever so slowly onto him.

            The Doctor shivers, taking the nape of Amy’s neck into his mouth and biting her softly, tempting her further, pleading with her. But Amy doesn’t comply. She makes him wait, hovering above him torturously, the scent of her driving him mad as he buries his face into her hair. With a devilish smile and a breathless moan, Amy plunges down onto him, inviting him into her warmth and rocking slowly against him. The Doctor sighs, smothering breathless moans against her skin, and cradling her in his arms as he moves in rhythm. All at once, he’s forgotten Rory’s existence completely, but Rory hasn’t forgotten his.

            “Doctor?” Rory calls again, and the Doctor sighs in discontent.

            “The best thing to do,” he finally says, his breathing ragged but concentrated, “is to experiment. By experimentation, you learn. You make mistakes, and hopefully, you make the proper choice and don’t kill us all.”

            “So, what you’re saying is, you have no idea which one I should cut?” Rory asks, clearly irritated.

            “Precisely,” the Doctor admits, nearly shouting the word as Amy tightens around him, inviting him further, deeper, twisting around him until he’s lost in a spiraling daze. His arms weave around her, pulling her impossibly closer until there isn’t an inch of space between them. The sensation builds in his chest, his hearts racing to the point of explosion, when Rory calls out to him again, only this time, the Doctor doesn’t stop.

            “Doctor, which instrument do I use for reconnecting links between coolant filters?”

            “The wibbly…looking…one…that…resembles…a hammer,” the Doctor cries, punctuating each word with a delicate thrust. Amy tilts her head back to rest against his shoulder again, her ginger curls dancing along his chest as she softly bites the curve of his ear. She can feel the Doctor’s breath against her ear, whispering her name like lyrics. She’s close. He can feel it in the way she tightens around him, the way that she collides with his chest as she moves rhythmically against him, quickening the pace.  

            In the Doctor’s convoluted mind, it’s just the two of them: a wicked whirl of inviting scents, breathless whispers and stolen kisses in between clandestine conversation. Complications like fiancés and prior promises don’t exist in the Doctor’s imaginary world, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make this moment magnificent for her. He curves against her, propelling himself deeper, burying his face into her hair and swimming in her gorgeous scent.  The Doctor grazes his teeth along the side of her neck, softly biting at her shoulders as he thrusts into her.

            She’s on the very edge, and the Doctor joins her, diving and falling with her, slowing his pace to a gentle rhythm, in an attempt to make this moment between them last, to hold on to Amy for as long as he possibly can. With one final, contented gasp, she collapses against him, her chest rising and falling in between breathless giggles. The Doctor sighs as he wraps his arms around her, hugging her close to his chest and inhaling the soft, sweet scent of her hair as she curls into him. He realizes, with a terrible pang, that he won’t ever be able to let her go, even though he knows it’s inevitable. On cue, the complication calls up to him.

            “Doctor, I think I’ve…I might’ve done something wrong. Can you come and take a look at it?” The sound of Rory’s confused, distraught voice echoes from the floor below, ripping them from their twisted little world and plunging them back into reality. But the Doctor doesn’t want to give her back just yet. He sighs against Amy’s shoulders, untangles himself from her hair and says, “No, Rory, I’m a bit busy at the moment. It’ll have to wait.”

            “Fine, then, I’ll just come up and show you.”

            For the first time in months, the Doctor is completely, properly shocked.

            The room spins in chaos as Amy propels herself upward and ruffles down her skirt, and the Doctor scrambles for his trousers. Rory’s footsteps reverberate from below, inching closer and threatening to divulge everything they’d worked to keep secret for the last few months. When Rory reaches the topmost stair, a mess of wires bundled in his arms, the both of them are perfectly composed on opposite sides of the console.

            “Amy,” Rory exclaims in cheerful surprise, rushing over to wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her on the cheek. He doesn’t even bother to ask why her hair isn’t wet from the swimming pool, nor why she doesn’t smell of chlorine. By now, Rory should be well used to the Doctor’s scent clinging to his fiancée, even if he hasn’t the slightest clue how it got there. As Rory gives her a look of pure adoration, Amy’s eyes find the Doctor’s, wondering if he can feel the mingled mix of pain and discomfort that surges through her chest. The Doctor avoids her gaze, tinkering with the underside of the TARDIS as he works to correct Rory’s mistakes.

            For the rest of the afternoon, the three of them sit in silence, drinking in the tension and guilt that radiates throughout the room. Amy and the Doctor chance looks at one another in rare moments of desperation, but never do their eyes lock in synchronicity. They follow this cyclical pattern, pretending like nothing had ever happened between them, and thinking constantly about the next time they’ll have another stolen moment together.


End file.
